Grand Canyon
by willthewisp
Summary: After 2x13. Rachel has a moment. Getting shot and nearly dying seems to bring about some self exploration more than living through a general apocalypse. She is independent and strong, and she doesn't need a pat on the back to keep being so, but.. Maybe it's time to stop looking at what she doesn't need, and take a look at what she does.
1. Schrodinger's cat

**Notes:** I wrote this with more emotion than logic, so I hope it'll make at least some disjointed sense to the rest of you. It's just that going through the Last Ship episodes again, I'm awed at her character, and at the same time she makes me a little sad. As amazing, always together and strong as she is, she is also so alone, and as I marvel at her strength, I also wanted to make her less alone and disconnected from everyone else. _X-posted on AOO._

 **Pairing:** Tom Chandler/Rachel Scott (but kinda pre-relationshippy)

 **Disclaimer:** _Don't own it :D_

* * *

 **Grand Canyon**

She was Doctor Rachel Scott. Paleomicrobiologist with two doctorates. She was an orphan. Her mother died when she was nine, and her father refused to acknowledge her existence after she began her _ungodly pursuits_ – that being, her study of medicine in Oxford. She was the creator of the cure that would save the world one day. _What's left of it anyway._

Rachel opened her eyes. Her train of thought interrupted, and she was glad for it. Counting off the facts of her life was something that she did to soothe as much as to hurt herself. She never quite could believe the good things, and the bad things seemed so much larger than everything else, and there was always something missing, though she could never really pinpoint what. So she opened her eyes. And prepared to soldier on. As she always had.

The hospital room was empty. She was not surprised. And she had no way of knowing that the Captain had stepped out for the first time that day, and only because the President had called asking for updates on ongoing mission. That that mission was Mike Slattery, Tex and Green each of whom were leading a team of men to sweep through the city as avenging angels on her behalf. That Alisha and Kara, and many others where assisting from communications center. That many more had turned to what they did best – and worked around the clock to fix Nathan James, because it was _their_ home. _Her_ home. That's where they were safe and that's from where they would sweep evil and injustice from this world.

What she knew was what she had always known. That she was alone. And she was fine with that. Really. Hers was a solitary existence, but it was not without its perks. Without.. She had been happy. She was sure of that. Once upon a time.

She grit her teeth and sat up straighter. Her shoulder hurt, but it was a dull, stiff kind of pain that was easy to ignore. Easy to get used to. She reached for the patient's chart and read the doctor's notes. Checked her own vitals and deemed herself well enough. _For what?_ She blinked, unsure where her train of thought was taking her. She surely had missed any planes that she was supposed to have been on. Her schedule was.. likely quite free. And that was an unusual feeling.

Oh, she didn't harbor illusions that once it was learned that she was awake and able to work, that it would change – there was so much to do in the world, but for this single moment, when she was alone in her hospital room. _Shot._ She was free. She didn't remember when she had last had a moment like this. It almost made her nauseous (though it was far more likely the medicine in her body), the possibility of having nothing to do. It felt like something vast and unfillable, like the Grand Canyon.

And she wanted to hold on to it. For just a moment. To take a pause. To take a breath. Oh, god, she felt like she was choking. Like there was no air in the room. She pulled IV needle out of her arm and struggled to get out of her bed. She needed to open a window. At least a window.

She thought she was remarkably steady on her feet, considering. But the window opened only a crack, and it was not enough. _What harm could it do?_ She was a doctor therefore she knew that she was well enough. And all she wanted to do was breathe. Just for a minute. Just.. a little. It wasn't hard to find some slippers and a doctor's coat, abandoned on a side of a chair on her way. It was easy to be unnoticed even if she wasn't really trying to be.

The doors to the rooftop opened easily and it was a gust of wind the greeted her: playfully twisting her hair, pressing her coattails against her legs, entwining her in a chilly, airy hug. She went to the very edge. And she never meant to get on the ledge. But she did.

 **GCGCGC**

"I'm not going to jump," the wind caressed her face, a breeze gently pulled her hair away from her face. She didn't look back. She didn't have to. Somehow, she always knew when he was in the room. In vicinity. _This isn't exactly a room, is it?_ She had no idea how long she had been standing there. It might have been quite a while, but the light wasn't any different – the day was still young.

"That is good to know," his voice was steady. As always. She smiled just hearing that tone – it was like he was saying without words that everything was alright. That everything would always be alright. "All the same, I'd prefer it if you climbed down."

"Oh, just a minute more, Captain," she said softly in an exhale, the shadow of a smile curled the corners of her lips. "I need to breathe," she explained, though the words were quiet – it was more of a confession to herself than to him, but she didn't doubt that he had heard. He had the ears of a fox.

"Air is pretty fresh on this side too," his voice was so close. She felt like she could spread her arms and let herself fall backwards, knowing that he would catch her. But she stood steady. She was far too strong and far too smart for such foolishness. Though it was tempting. To fall. Just once. To see how it worked out. To let someone else catch her, slow her down, just a little bit, just so that for a moment someone else would take care of her. What was it that Niels had said to her? That she was an unstoppable force in search of an immovable object.

"Please.." there was a tremble in his voice, that she didn't hear.

"I let him touch me, you know," she said a moment later as if picking up a thread of a long lost conversation. "Niels. I made him think I.. _admired_ him. Liked him..," she could keep disgust from shaping her words. "A man who killed the world..," she laughed, without joy. "And I.."

"Rachel, please.." she was facing the abyss in front of her, she had no way of seeing the effect of her words on the captain. How her words scared him. How her lifeless tone straight down terrified him. How he kept inching closer to her. How he gritted his teeth hard enough to hear, just so he could keep his tone steady whenever he opened his mouth. How his heart was racing a mile a minute as if he was in combat. How his face was pale and drawn, and shadows of unslept nights gathered underneath his eyes. "Rachel, come down, please," there was tension in his voice that she did not hear.

But her name on his lips did startle her. Rachel's eyes flew open and she realized where she was. What she was doing. The elusive freedom she had sought slipped through her fingers like a dream upon waking and reality came crashing in on all her senses. Heaviness settled in her chest cavity and air once again felt heavy as if filled with ashes and soot. A headache came on suddenly, slapping her with dizzying strength, and her shoulder was a burning point on a map where the rest of her body was a wasteland. Just drifting.

But she was strong. Therefore she resolved to turn and step off the ledge, back on the roof. Say whatever she had to say to convince the Captain that this was just an innocent episode. A little strange it may be, but nothing alarming. But her body, that had not failed her for so long, just couldn't go on any more. Dizziness gripped her as she turned sharply and those were someone else's strong hands on her hips that pulled her to safety.

"Rachel, Rachel," he shook her lightly as soon as her feet touched the ground, still holding tightly. "What the hell are you doing?" she did hear the anger.

"Nothing, nothing," she murmured, blinking hard to get her eyes to cooperate, her world to stop spinning. Anything to just keep being the woman he saw her as. Rachel Scott. The doctor who created the cure. The doctor who saved the world. The doctor who worked twenty hours a day. Who didn't sleep, eat or drink enough. One who was strong. One who hadn't stopped running in months, years. Just.. _Running from what?_ She was exhausted.

"You're exhausted," he said, and before she knew it, he had picked her up. As easy as if she were a leaf floating off of a tree. Just a sparkle of dust in the wind. Inconsequential. She laid her head on his shoulder and wished away everything she had in the world to be able to push him away and stand on her own. To tell him that she was okay. That everything was alright. But her lips wouldn't cooperate.

"You need rest," he said in a soft, reassuring tone. But it was as if he said that more to himself. "You're going to be alright. Just fine."

She sighed. Even if she wanted, she could find no words to start explaining why that wouldn't work. So she just let him carry her back. Back to every other day of her life and a Grand Canyon's worth of duties.

 **GCGCGC**

He laid her down on the bed. Helped her get under the covers and then settled in a chair next to the bed. She wanted to tell him that he really didn't have to stay. She wanted to tell him that it was highly unlikely that she could fall asleep under that watchful gaze of his. She wanted to tell him so many things, ask about the crew, but her eyelids were heavy and somewhere between one thought and the next she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, light outside was different and he was still sitting in that chair. To be honest, she wasn't sure he had even moved. "What are you still doing here?" her mouth was dry and the question was more accusing that she had intended. She was merely... curious by now. The same million things that pulled her into every direction also pulled at him. They had no time to waste by sitting at people's bedsides.

He went over the small table by windowsill and poured some water in a paper cup from a plastic bottle. "Watching over you," he replied, handing her the water. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if it wasn't anything to marvel at. As if his presence was naturally expected and required here.

"We're not on your ship," she remarked softly before sipping some of the water. "I'm not your responsibility anymore."

"Is that what you think?" he frowned, "That I'm here just because I feel responsible?"

Rachel froze mid-sip. That was what she thought. She avoided having to answer by continuing to drink slowly.

"I do feel responsible," he said when no answer from her was forthcoming. "But that is not why I'm here," he finished forcefully, before visibly gathering himself to speak much softer, "Rachel.. What is going on?"

"Nothing," she replied. There was no more water in her cup. "I'm fine."

"People don't climb on ledges just for nothing," he was calm, his tone was patient. It was as if he had put aside any personal reaction to that, and was just here for her. For anything she might want to say.

"Oh, that…" she ought to have known that he would not just let it go. Now more than ever she regretted her foolish actions, but at the time, she was.. suffocating and all she needed was a fresh breath of air. "It was just an odd moment. The medicine.."

"Don't lie to me," for a moment his calm mask slipped.

"Captain.." Rachel began, thinking quickly, grasping for anything to say to pacify him.

"You said to me, you promised, when all this was just starting that you would always be straight with me. Don't start going back on your word now," he reminded her, he pleaded with her. That day when he had failed to trust her and ordered a ship-wide quarantine, she had promised to always be true, no matter what is was that she had to say.

She exhaled heavily, indecisively, "It really was just.. an odd moment. I don't know what to say."

She didn't even know what to feel. When she woke up, for that moment then, she had felt so alone. And so small and insignificant in the face of all that was to be done yet. So powerless and.. Like nothing she did was ever enough. How could she begin to explain that? That she couldn't give up even if she might want to at times. That she really wouldn't, and therefore he had nothing to worry about. But at the same time – she could no longer figure out where to get her strength from. She was exhausted and didn't know how to stop, how to ask for help.

"Just talk. Talk to me, Rachel. You can tell me anything."

"Anything?" she asked as if she didn't believe him. She almost wanted him to take back his words, because she didn't think she could continue resisting if he kept being so.. encouraging, understanding and patient.

"Anything," he was steadfast. As always.

She sighed. It was a sad breath as her walls crumbled and she struggled to find words with which to start. "I miss them," she finally said. "My grandparents," she elaborated a moment later.

"My mother was so in love with my father that she went with him when he wanted to spread his religion to remote regions. She left _everything._ Turned her back on her family. And in the end paid for it with her life, because my father's beliefs were that God, not a vaccine would cure my mother of malaria," she could guess that the basic facts of this might be on her file, but it seemed important to share this with him in her own words, because that was her origin, one that had shaped her for the rest of her life.

"It was then that I decided to study medicine, to devote my life to it. And when I left my father for University, he cast me out. And when I came to England.. Curiosity overtook me. I found that my mother still had family left. It wasn't an easy decision to decide to contact them. I wasn't even sure if they knew of me, if they knew that my mother was dead, but.. It was the best decision that I made, because it turned out better than I could have hoped for," and finally a smile lit up her face for a short moment.

"I mean.. I was an adult. I had a scholarship, I could take care of myself, but to them, I was their granddaughter. They just.. loved me. And supported me. I came out of nowhere, and they wanted me anyway," she looked at him, imploring him to understand the things that she meant to say, but couldn't find space for. That when she had told Quincy that he had no idea what she'd lost – she wasn't exaggerating, and she didn't mean her short-time boyfriend, the journalist.

Tom grasped her hand.

"They must be dead now. I couldn't.. warn them. Save them," before she'd left for Arctic, the virus hadn't reached Europe yet. And once she was there – her secure communication was to the White House. Just as she couldn't tell the crew and they couldn't warn their families – she couldn't warn hers.

"I let them down," and wasn't that an irony? Her father let her mother die, because of prejudice against medicine, and she let her grandparents die, because she believed in finding a cure.

It was as if the floodgates were open. She kept on talking. Holding tight onto the Captain's hand.

"To tell the truth, I probably let them down long before that.. I went from university to university from research project, to research project as if I could wipe every virus from the world. I.. kept chasing something, I don't know what, and I couldn't stop. I still can't. I..," she wished she could express her feelings as eloquently as she described her research in scientific publications. What she meant was that though she had found a family, she had still left them. So how did that make her deserving of them?

"Don't you see? I may have found the right combination of elements for the cure, but given the resources and time – any doctor could have done it. I ran so fast, and I fought so hard, and I don't even know.." _why?_ Niels' arrogance was in assuming that his DNA would save the human race, and in doing so he had murdered it nearly to extinction. But wasn't she just as arrogant?

"It's not your fault," Tom said when she stopped speaking. "Rachel, listen to me. Whatever happened to your grandparents is not your fault. What happened to your mother is not your fault. And nobody else could have done what you did. _No one else even tried._ There is no one else like you."

She listened, but she wasn't hearing him. "So that's that I suppose," that's what's going on with her. That's what's wrong with her. She felt lost. Utterly lost.

"Rachel.. What I said that day, is still true," he said softly, and the expression on his face was as if she was breaking his heart.

She frowned, but their hands were still clasped. "What day?" The day he said she put blood on his hands?

"The day you promised not to lie to me."

She shook her head lightly. They had said many things then, and one of the most prominent on her mind was the discussion about the vaccine that wasn't working.

He took a fortifying breath. "I said that I did it for you. Risked _everything_ for you, even when I didn't know you at all. It was true then, and it is true today, though I do know you now, Rachel. Can't you see? It isn't that I was just stuck with you and there was a world to save. Saving the world is a very abstract concept. At that time.. The world was broken. There was no power holding me to anything, but _you_. You asked me to save the world, and all of it – was for you. It's a strange hold you have over me. Over my people and, I daresay, over anyone who gets to meet you. So you don't get to say that anyone could have been in your place. Because then.. It just might as well have been the end," he would have taken his crew home, to find their families. They'd all eventually be infected and dead.

"Captain.." she wanted to say that she knew him to be a better man than that. That she knew he would have done the right thing regardless of who was in her place, because of the principle of the argument.

"There's still a world to save, Rachel. And, God knows, it won't be easy, and there's a ... A Grand Canyon's worth of things to do, but you're not alone. And you're important, to everyone, and to me, especially. So talk to me. Don't keep things in. Come to me and if nothing else – I'll just listen. I've always believed in you, after all."

"I don't know how to stop," _running_ , she admitted. She didn't know how to take a pause, to rest.

"And I would never make you stop, but just for a moment, I need you to trust me like I trust you. Let me take care of you," _let me be there for you and, please, believe me when I say it._ There were so many more things he wanted to add to that, but she wasn't ready to hear them, and he wasn't ready to say them.

And after an infinitely long moment, she agreed, "Alright."

When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object – the force doesn't stop, and the object doesn't move. But there is a moment, a quantum moment like the riddle of Schrodinger's cat where the force is still moving and the object is still, and they're one and the same. Together.


	2. R&R

**Rest & Relax**

And the world didn't stop. It was remarkably resilient in that sense. Always kept spinning forward. And though no more words passed between Rachel and the Captain that evening, they had reached an understanding.

Eventually she got him to leave. It was after he had spent another night in that terribly uncomfortable looking chair by her bedside. But that by no means meant that she was left alone. Captain was barely out of the door when Tex came in. He brought greetings from the crew and gifts.

"Where did you get this?" she laughed, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from the colorful array of balloons, merrily reaching for the ceiling.

"This is a big city, doc. Full of secrets," he winked and handed her the threads tying the whole thing together. "The better question would be – where did I get the helium? But that's also a secret."

Automatically she took the ribbons. She couldn't stop laughing. "What.. What am I supposed to do with them?" she marveled. It was ridiculous. It was so ridiculous that only Tex could have done it. She was a grown woman. There was an apocalypse outside. And here he was. With balloons of all things. She saw a bear, a zebra, a happy-birthday balloon.. Another smile turned into a laugh.

Tex smiled watching her. To him, the balloons had already done what they had to do. When was the last time that Rachel had laughed like that? "Well, you're not supposed to hurt yourself with them, ya know," he remarked when he saw her wincing – she laughed so hard, she jostled her injured shoulder. "I'm starting to think they might need to upgrade the age warning on these things. Not allowed for adults."

"I think you may be right," she tried handing them back to him. "Would you?"

"Yeah, sure," he proceeded to tie them to the railing of her bed.

"Tex!"

"What?" he asked, perfectly innocent as he secured another balloon.

Arguments died on her lips. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"Anytime, doc," he smiled, but along with the sincerity, there was sadness in his eyes. But whether she noticed or not, it was soon gone, replaced by his usual smirk. "So.. Did the Captain tell you the big news or should I?"

"What did I miss?" her mind was already jumping to the worst conclusions possible.

Tex grinned, "Green finally bit the bullet and proposed to Foster. There's a wedding on horizon."

Oh. "Oh," ten dozen worst case scenarios that she had been running in her mind ground to a startling halt. "That's wonderful news!" It genuinely was. She had no idea how it would work out on the ship, but it was heartwarming that people were still not only living their lives, but moving on with them. Rachel grasped for words to express her happiness for Kara and Danny. "Give them my best wishes."

"I would," Tex shrugged, "But they've been itching to get down here themselves. I suspect they'll be here before nightfall once the word gets around you're awake and better."

"Really?" it slipped before Rachel could stop herself. She knew she wasn't disliked by the crew, but.. It's one thing to be amiable with the people you're kind of stuck with – and they _were_ stuck with her – and quite another to extend that bond beyond those extraordinary circumstances.

"Yes. Really," Tex rolled his eyes. "What? Did you think you could save their lives over and over again, and they wouldn't get attached? Sorry, doc. But as a wise man once wrote – you become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."

She wanted to object. She had tamed no one. She had never intended to. But Tex was saying the same thing the Captain had said only a few hours before. It was hard to believe, the power they addressed to her with the attachment they claimed to have. It scared her a little. Human beings weren't like viruses, like science. They were infinitely complex and important, and Rachel was always better at science. She was afraid that she'd only let them down. "The Little Prince," she said, instead, recognizing the quote.

"Good book. Read it to Kathleen more than once when she was little."

"Of course, you did," she said softly. If one would just take a short look at Tex, one would never be able to imagine him as a caring father, but Rachel knew better than that. "How is she?"

"Great. In fact..," but Tex didn't get further, because the door opened, and he was out of this seat with his hand halfway to the gun strapped to his thigh before he noticed that the man entering was not a threat. "Mister President," he greeted pushing the clip on the gun holster closed.

"Tex," the President greeted. "Doctor Scott. I hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, I think I've taken enough of the good doctor's time anyway," he inclined his head. "See you later, doc!"

Rachel tried not to show that the seemingly constant stream of visitors left her somewhat nonplussed. "Bye, Tex. Thank you for the ... balloons."

"Anytime," he grinned and pushed his cap higher. "Mr. President."

"Goodbye, Tex," Michener tried to keep his amusement out of the tone. He was a seasoned politician. A president. A couple of balloons and a love-struck Special Forces soldier would not make him loose his composure. "I heard you were feeling better," he tried to find a place to stand where he wouldn't have to look in-between balloons.

"Yes, I am. Thank you," Rachel replied succinctly and tried to reign in the grin at seeing the president move from one spot to the next, until he just sat down in the Captain's chair. She almost frowned. She had no idea when the chair at her bedside had conceded ownership to Tom Chandler in her head, but.. that was his place. He had sat there long enough.

"I want you to know that what happened to you after the inaugural ball is reprehensible. Security measures have been reviewed and updated. You are one of the most important people on the planet right now, and what happened should never have happened," he wasn't exaggerating and his thoughts weren't biased by personal affection. He liked Rachel Scott well enough, but it wasn't comparable to some of the people on the _Nathan James_. In Jeffrey Michener's view Rachel's work was nowhere near done. She had discovered the cure, perfected the formula for a powder version and ultimately created the contagious cure, and while many a talented doctor (and they weren't in that large a supply left in the world either) could now recreate her successes – that wasn't the point. As creator of the cure Rachel was right up there with the President and the crew of _Nathan James_. They were like the founding members of an entirely new world – that was still convalescing in the ashes of the previous one. The political capital alone that her name commanded (or would command once the government was more stable) was astounding.

"Was anybody else hurt?" how had she not thought to ask that before?

"No," Michener replied. "They knew exactly who to hit to do most damage." And that also wasn't a platitude or a compliment. He was once twelfth in line for Presidency. And there were still people after him, even if at the moment the details of that were sketchy. Captain Chandler for his part was very close to being stuff of legend, but it was him with his crew and the _Nathan James_ that together made such an imposing figure. The doctor who saved the world was exactly one. Every other doctor who had helped her in any considerable way towards the discovery – also dead. It was a bad track record that Michener aimed to improve.

"How is it in Lincoln?" _Nebraska_ , it's been days since she had to be there. And she knew how fast the virus worked. Many were likely dead. She didn't mean to interrupt and misdirect - for her a conversation was always a process, one where each party gave something and took something back – like a game of ping pong. Or debate. It wasn't intentional insolence or disrespect on her part to strive to dominate the dialogue – it was just.. her.

"We sent out a team of people that have the contagious cure and doctor Milowsky. It's under control," he replied. "Which brings me to the topic that I actually came here to discuss."

She didn't have to be a genius to guess that it would be a new list of cities for her once she was able enough.

"This terrible situation has highlighted for me that there is still a very long way to go to heal our nation and the world. And you are an asset that we cannot afford to lose, not to mention, that it's very obvious that you're a high-ranking target for the remaining sects of Immunes and that endangers both you and those around you. Which leads me to conclude that at the moment there are only two places where adequate security can be provided – my administration once it is set up, and the _Nathan James_."

"With all due respect, mister President, but I'm a doctor," Rachel spoke and there was steel in her tone. "The cure is working, I suppose I could do research here, but at the moment when there are still people dying out there every day and St. Louis is cured, I am needed at those other places."

"I agree," Michener wasn't even surprised.

Rachel opened and closed her mouth. "But.."

The president was uninclined to rescue her from the blunder she'd talked herself into.

"But the _Nathan James_ is in dry dock. It was said that it would take months to repair her.."

"Yes, I'm aware. Which is why in the meantime once you're well enough to be released from the hospital, you will be given a team of scientists, and you'll teach them about the cure. Three months seems enough to get you, your scientists and the _Nathan James_ back into shape – as I recall, we're still in the business of saving the world."

She wouldn't have to leave. Of all the things that Michener had said, of all the important things he had said – it was this one that was bouncing around in her skull. She was staying. Near the _James_ , near the crew.. Near the Captain. It made her so ridiculously happy for a moment that it was scary. She wasn't used to being so happy. Content, yes. But that light feeling in her chest, that lifted her up the same way helium made balloons fly – that was not mere satisfaction. "And.. And then?"

"We'll have months to devise a worldwide distribution plan – then we'll execute it via the _Nathan James_ ," he sincerely hoped some semblance of a working government could be contacted in Europe or elsewhere, but it was a hope he kept close to his chest. He also planned on trying to get more personnel, more ships, and through Rachel's training – more doctors. _But one step at a time_ , he reminded himself. They'd been too close to utter failure too many times to rush in unprepared again.

"But in months.." Rachel started.

"Many more will have died, and there is nothing that can be done about it that isn't being already done."

And that was a truth that was hard to accept. They had the cure. They even had a contagious cure. But there was no way to simultaneously spread it to every corner of the world. There was no magic button by pushing which – everyone would be saved, just because she had solved the main puzzle. People were going to continue to die. And she was in a hospital bed unable to do anything about it.

"Rest, doctor Scott," Michener turned his tone to softer. "The world has survived this long. It will survive a bit longer."

She gave him a tiny nod of acknowledgment. She heard. She didn't agree. And she couldn't bring herself to speak more of it. The words would be too loud, too harsh and unchangeable – _people will continue to die_. Just like that.

When the president left she finally noticed that what was once a faint throbbing now was a somewhat nauseating pain in her shoulder. She ground her teeth hard enough to wince at the sound as she swallowed back what saliva she could muster to wash away the nausea, and considered the pain-relief button control. She could increase morphine drip, and instantly she'd feel better, but.. As a doctor she considered it over and again – did she really feel that bad? Did she really need it, or could stand to be without it for a while longer? What about how many supplies they had? What if she pressed it now, felt even worse later and just kept on using it?

She knew that half the thoughts she had on the subject were ridiculous. To anyone else she'd tell not to be silly and just press the button. But Rachel was so used to discomfort, that for her it was genuinely hard to judge where was the line of ' _too much_ '. It wasn't like she had intended to run herself down like a plow horse, but with most of the world dying around her – it hadn't seemed like the best of times to stop and enjoy herself.

' _Let me take care of you,'_ the Captain had said. Rachel huffed and pressed the button. She could take care of herself, thank you very much. Well, at least she could push the button and let the drugs do the rest. Unbidden a smile graced her face, it was still the thought of the Captain that made sun rise in her expression. "Well," she muttered as she relaxed against the pillows, "you were wrong on one thing, Captain Chandler," and as medicine worked its magic, the rest she finished in her thoughts, _when you said that I didn't have anything to prove to anyone. I guess there are a few things I still have to prove to myself_.

 **R &R**

Her sleep was more of a nap. She woke, startled, when she heard the door open. Somehow between the dream that she'd been having and the act of someone entering, she was on edge. The last vestiges of the dream faded as she blinked and regarded her visitors. Her heart was still racing, but she could no longer remember what had scared her so much. "Kara, Danny! I heard the great news! I'm so happy for both of you!"

"I'm sorry if we woke you..," _the Captain will have our heads_ , Kara apologized.

"It's okay. I wasn't sleeping," Rachel smiled and tried to prop herself higher on the bed. Kara immediately came to assistance. "Just resting my eyes. Thank you," she settled more comfortably upright.

"We wanted to come earlier, but.." Kara fell silent. She wasn't sure whether she should actually bring up the shooting and the people involved.

"It's fine, Kara. I understand," Rachel let her off the hook softly. She truly did understand, but not in the way that she was supposed to. She correctly assumed that Kara had been busy performing her duties as Tactical Action Officer, but not why it had been so important.

"You can rest easy, doctor. We got the man responsible. And his whole terrorist cell too," Green had less sense of tact than Kara, therefore he didn't see it as potentially upsetting to disclose that information. "At least what was here in St. Louis."

"You did?" Rachel was honestly surprised.

Kara threw a look at her fiancée that said that she'd elbow him in the ribs if she wasn't the mature one. "It was a three team operation, team leaders being XO, Lieutenant Green and Tex. It went very successfully," she elaborated, but not by much.

 _Tex never said anything_ , Rachel thought. _Though neither did the Captain, come to think of it._ "When did this all happen?"

"Yesterday," Danny said after a moment, throwing a cautious gaze at Kara. "It took us a while to find their hideout."

"But.." _the Captain was here_. Rachel was confused – Tom Chandler always went on missions with his men. Always. That was a source of constant worry for her. And, of course, for everyone else aboard the _Nathan James_. But yesterday – he had been here. By her side. All day. Rather than jump to conclusions or wade into waters too deep, Rachel decided to let that little tidbit of information rest for now.

"I'm sorry, are we upsetting you?" Kara asked, "We just wanted to check how you're doing. There are many more who are anxious for some good news."

"And to tell you about the wedding," Danny added. "But if Tex told you that already, then it's just the invitation left. We're not yet sure when or how, but, of course, you're invited, Doctor," he had no words to expand on that, whatever Rachel Scott had done for the world, she had saved his soul. His Kara. Their baby. Multiple times now. There could be no more solid way to forge a bond between people.

"Thank you," words that she seemed to repeat a lot these last few days. Then again, there are worse things in the world than to have a lot to be thankful about. "Of course I'll come. I'm honored to be invited."

Kara beamed at Rachel. "Perfect. Uhm.. We'll leave you to rest now. But we'll drop by some other time, if you don't mind."

"I will be glad for the company," Rachel replied. She bit back a comment how the Captain got a bit stale after a few days and having other visitors shoo him off would be good for everyone involved. Friends or not, Kara and Danny were still under Tom's command. So Rachel just smiled at the joke that she wouldn't tell.

It wasn't even five minutes after Kara and Danny had left that her door opened again. "Oh, for the love of..," everyone kept _telling_ her to rest – she was tired of hearing those words – and nobody actually _let_ her rest. She didn't mind having company, and she didn't mind people individually – she liked people, that's one of the reasons she was a doctor. You don't become a doctor if you don't genuinely want to help the poor sods! But this was getting ridiculous. "Oh," she laughed seeing that the newest trespasser as the Captain himself.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, all arched eyebrows and badly concealed smiles.

"No," Rachel reigned in her laugh. "It's just been a busy day."

"I imagine so," he said, settling down in his chair. "I saw them arguing about who gets to go, when I laid down the law that they weren't allowed to storm the hospital all together."

"Kara and Danny won," Rachel settled lower. She was tired, but smiling. Happier than before. Lighter. That alone kept her awake.

"They probably pulled the _'but we're getting married'_ card," Tom laughed.

"Tex sneaked in before them and took the wind out of their surprise," Rachel shared. And it was so simple and easy – to just go over the day. Together.

"I thought he might pull something like that off," Tom admitted. "You do know that he told me that he wanted to spend some time with his daughter today? Ugh, the man will not shy from any tricks. I should've known."

"He brought the balloons," she gestured. "It was nice."

"The president told me the new action plan. And that he'd informed you too," he continued. "I must say I agree with it wholeheartedly."

Rachel sighed. She didn't want to think about the world. She couldn't avoid it for long, but just for these few moments, she just wanted to laugh a little. Talk about the ingenuity and tenacity of their friends. _Their_ _friends_ – they were his people, and hers too, it seemed. She wanted to cradle that warm feeling in her chest a little longer. Because maybe if she had enough time, she could figure out how to conserve it. How to put it in a glass jar and put it away for safekeeping, for some later day when it will be sorely needed. She needed to bask in that glow a little longer. To think about the part that was saved rather than always look into the abyss of all the things that she was too late for.

She had promised to be honest with him. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Alright," he agreed easily and quickly. And if he had any momentary doubts whether her reservation was reluctance to return to _Nathan James_ – he buried it for later inspection. "Just rest, for now."

Rachel had to laugh at that. "People have been telling me that all day long."

He chuckled too, "Well, then maybe you should start listening to them."

"I'm afraid I won't be very good company then, Captain."

"As I said before – I'm here for anything you need. Even if it's just to listen..," he paused for dramatic effect, and delivered his next line perfectly deadpan, "to you snore."

"I do not snore!" Rachel objected immediately and indignantly. She pulled a pillow from underneath her and threw it at him. It did hit him. But the motion also pulled at her injury and had her gasping, and grasping for the control button to the morphine drip barely a moment later.

"Damn, Rachel," he jumped to his feet and rushed to help her. "Are you okay?" He hovered near her, unsure where he could touch that wouldn't hurt her. Absolutely helpless and hating that fact.

"Yes, just.. Overdid it, a little," she replied sheepishly, still curled on her side and around the morphine control. She winced as she moved to brush some hair away from her face.

"Did you pull your stitches?" he continued to query her, "Maybe I should call for a doctor.."

"I _am_ a doctor, Tom," she rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, honestly," she extended her healthy arm to get him to help her settle back more comfortably. He was there immediately.

"Are you sure?" doubt was coloring his tone.

"Yes," she insisted, and refrained from another eye roll. Two in one conversation would be a bit much for an acclaimed scientist. But damn if he didn't bring out the girl in her – the one who was less jaded, snarkier and more brash in every way.

"Ok, then," he acquiesced. And when he was sure that she was once again comfortable, he picked up the pillow and used it to get more comfortable in his chair.

"That's my pillow!" she pointed.

"Spoils of war, doctor," he grinned back at her.

But it was a while before he stopped watching her warily, and she stopped challenging him on that. Eventually though they settled each into their own – she fell asleep, and he was her watchful guardian.


	3. Calls Incoming

**Calls Incoming**

"What are you doing?"

Rachel laughed without even looking up. She knew that careful, measured tone that masqueraded as calm. She wrote a short note on the edge of the paper and finally looked up. And sure enough, she could read the exasperation in the lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "Working," she explained shortly.

"You're incorrigible!" he exclaimed, his mask of calm breaking. "You woke up three days ago. After being in a medically induced coma for two."

"Yes, I missed a lot, I know," Rachel answered, all serious and narrow eyed. In truth she was teasing him, though she did have a lot to do. She'd spent the better part of the morning reviewing the dossiers on her future … students? Colleagues?

Tom, for his part, fell silent for a few moments. It was much more dignified than indignant spluttering. "You should be resting," he said when he was sure he could keep a straight voice. Those days that he had mentioned didn't bear thinking about. Truth be told he hardly remembered how they had passed. It was an agonizing blur. He'd sat in the waiting hall of the hospital for hours. Days, perhaps, as people kept coming by and urging him to go have a coffee, sleep, to rest a moment. There were moments that stood out more – when the lead surgeon came out of the operating room with updates, when Mike radioed with reports on the search of the perpetrator.

He wasn't proud of that time. He'd completely lost perspective. He'd completely lost his ability to lead his people, and that was unacceptable. It also had never happened before. He was still trying to figure out how to deal with that and whether he should stay behind once _the Nathan James_ sails. Nobody had said anything to him about it, not even the president, but Tom did not want to be a liability to his people, and he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't happen again. Frankly just the thought of the memory of how he found Rachel made his blood run cold.

"Says the guy who wouldn't let me operate on him to take a piece of metal out of his gut, because, apparently there were better things for him to do," she emphasized her point by arching her eyebrows at him. That is until a realization dawned on her and she frowned, "Wait. Don't tell me you still haven't…"

"I'm fine," he replied. "There just hasn't been time to…"

"You're joking, right? Captain?"

"Rachel..," when was he supposed to have gone under? When they were fighting _the Achilles_? Sailing up the Mississippi? Or while she was fighting for her life? His frown was no less annoyed than hers.

"This is unacceptable, and that is my professional opinion!" her words were forceful, she spoke less with her mouth and more with her entire being. "My God… Do you _want_ to die unexpectedly? That piece of shrapnel can pierce your internal organs any given moment and you'll bleed out inside!"

"I've been a bit busy, in case you haven't noticed," that came out nearly as a growl.

She did not shy away from the anger she heard in his tone, slammed shut the files she had in front of her, and pressed the distress button attached to her bed to summon a nurse. "Have you at least made plans to deal with that?" she knew the answer, she didn't have to hear it.

Truth be told, he had forgotten. And not just to make plans, but that he needed surgery in the first place. He felt fine, and that was enough. "What are you doing?" he asked just as a nurse rushed in.

"Bring the surgeon, please, it is quite urgent," Rachel asked with a tight, professional smile, and after another wary look at the people in the room, the nurse left to do as asked.

"I'm not going under now," that was less like a statement and more like an order.

"Then you'll book a time when you will, but it is going to happen. And soon. And by soon I mean – this week," Rachel had never paid much attention to his orders. Oh, she listened – she wasn't disrespectful, but when it came to following those orders it was more of a 'pick-and-choose'.

"My children are flying in tomorrow morning," he argued.

"Good," she smiled, "They can hold your hand if you're afraid of the big, bad doctor."

"I have duties!"

"Your first and foremost duty is to stay alive," she replied sharply.

" _So is yours,_ " he spat back at her. And slammed his mouth shut so hard that his teeth hurt. It had just slipped out. In the moment. He didn't often lose his composure, but, by all that is sacred, Rachel could make him do that more often than anything or anyone else.

"It is _not_ my fault, I got shot," Rachel felt indignation like fire rising in her chest.

"No, it's not," he sighed. It was and admission.

And as fast as her anger had blossomed, it died down, as she caught onto his tone. "It is not yours either," she wished she could reach for him, somehow words didn't seem like enough. She considered her situation for a moment, and then sat up straighter, pushing paperwork off her lap, preparing to climb out of the bed, but then the surgeon finally walked in.

 **GCGCGC**

Most people went a healthy circle around Val when she started muttering at her screen. A command center had been set up in an improvised president's compound, and finally she could work from a station that was more powerful than a laptop. She might have been able to rig a communications system on it, but it had been an act of desperation. She was a student – her laptop was beat down and nowhere near state of the art. She was amazed she had accomplished as much as she had with it.

"Oh," she sighed, almost disappointedly and redirected the incoming communications into a virtual box to keep it away from any sensitive data. "So you're the one who locked me out of the network," Val grumbled, adjusting her microphone and signaling to the room that she found someone. Or rather – that she was found.

"I re-encrypted the network," it was a woman's voice. Val put it through speakers. "I did leave the civilian channel open."

"Yes, I saw it. I'm glad that I was able to keep my clock perfectly synchronized during apocalypse," Val snarked. She hadn't been able to override the restrictions on the Navstar satellite access channel and that meant that the main usability from it was – navigation and clocks.

"Is there someone I can talk to who actually has any authorization?" the woman on the other end asked. "I'm not about to give access to a military asset to someone who still thinks TOR is their best chance at anonymity."

"Hey!" Val protested.

 **GCGCGC**

"So, any idea who is this guy?" Wolf asked, laughing, after a sailor had relied what had happened in the communications room in more humoristic light. The president had already made the announcement earlier that contact had been established with operatives overseas and that huge progress had been made in re-enabling secure worldwide satellite communications.

"Gal, actually," Miller spoke up. "I talked with Val, apparently they got fast friends after they fought it out."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense!" Danny urged.

"Apparently she's one of us. Navy, that is. Former intelligence officer," Miller explained. "What was the.. Alexandra Drake. Anyone know her?"

Kara shrugged. "She may have been a year ahead of me in Academy. The name does sound familiar."

Wolf slowly put his water back on the table. He's been mid-sip when Miller had said her name. _Sasha._ "I have to go," he rose suddenly and left with no further explanation.

"What's up with him?" Burke frowned.

 **GCGCGC**

Rachel couldn't help but smile. It seemed that there really was some sort of babysitting schedule around her. Tom and Tex exchanged greetings as one left and the other entered. With the knowledge that Tom's children and father were flying in this morning – she had been surprised that he had found the time to visit her before that. But she was starting to realize, that maybe that was the one thing she ought not to be surprised about.

"Guys, have I become a pressure thermometer or something that everybody feels that I can't be left without supervision?" she asked while they were still both in the room.

"Sure thing, doc," Tex pushed his hat higher on his forehead. "We put you on the duty roster right between fuel checks and doing inventory on the ammo."

Tom laughed, "Do me a favor and get her to have some rest while I'm gone."

Rachel shook her head in exasperation as the Captain left, and turned her attention to a softer target, "As infinitely sweet as that is, Tex, I am not a pressure thermometer. I will not unexpectedly combust."

He flicked one of the balloons and perched at the end of her bed. "You may have gotten your sea legs, Doc, but not the lingo. Pressure thermometers in the engine room do not combust. Or explode. It's the engine that may do that."

"You know what I meant, Tex," she inclined her head, her gaze all the more strict because she gazed frowned. She wasn't even sure why she argued. That is, she knew she was right, but was the point really worth as much emphasis as she put on it? She didn't really mind the company. It warmed a corner of her heart, right there. Rachel was a biologist, not a psychologist, but she could guess that she just might be afraid to get used to people caring.

"People worry, Doc. Be a good sport and let them worry it out," Tex wisely advised. "Now, do you want to hear the news or will you wait until they print the paper?"

"What news?"

"So Valkyrie found a new best friend overseas. Turns out – it's one of our own people. An officer that was stationed in China before everything went to hell. The good news is that the lady has the encryption key for the satellite communication. With her help Val actually managed to get worldwide communications up and running again," Tex left out a few more technical details, but he did report the gist of it.

"Someone still has to pick up the phone on the other end," Rachel sighed. The last time they had had secure communications – it had ended in a disaster. The destruction of the labs still hurt. They had been so close to having hope for the world and.. Niels had deserved to die for that as much as for everything else he'd done.

She didn't doubt that having worldwide communications would be invaluable, especially when _the Nathan James_ was ready to sail, but.. She couldn't help but be skeptical. Who could possibly be left in the world with access to satellite communications for them to call? Her greatest fear was that by the time she'd be able to reach Europe – there would be nobody left to save.

"Yes, they do," Tex agreed steadily, leading into, "And guess what - they did."

"What?"

"We actually managed to contact the Brits," he said.

"That's amazing," the words left her breathlessly. She immediately tried to sit up higher as if that would help her pay more attention. "What.. What did they say? How is the situation there?"

"Wait till you hear more," there was a knowing grin on Tex's face. He'd known that his news would cheer her up. "Apparently they still have a form of government there. Most of the parliament is dead, but, you know the British, they have laws and contingencies for everything. The government is now headed by some earl. I think, Earl of Dover, it was. George Carey."

"Oh, dear God..," Rachel paled. She tried to take a slow calming breath even though her heartrate had spiked and her throat felt like it was clamping down _. In. Out. Deep breaths,_ she thought. The visceral reaction surprised her. Relief felt like a sucker punch into her solar plexus. In her medical opinion – it was the medicine that eroded her control over her emotions.

"Hey, hey, you okay? You got really pale there, doc..," Tex leaned forwards to grasp her hands. He tried to catch her gaze and get her to concentrate on him, and on breathing. He even showed her how. _In. Out. Deep breaths._

"I need air..," Rachel gasped. She meant that she needed fresh air. Outside.

Tex just shook his head and breathed in exaggeratedly deep to show her what he wanted her to do. "Calm down. Breathe," he instructed. _In. Out. Deep breaths._ When he was sure that she wasn't going to jump out of bed or her own skin, he asked, "Does something hurt? Should I get the doctor?"

"No," her breaths were still short. "No, I'm fine," it took conscious effort to take a calm, deep breath. "It's just.."

"Alright, calm down, you can tell me later," he patted her hand and showed her how to breathe again.

"I'm not in labor, Tex," she snapped and coughed when she run out of breath.

"Nah, you're just panicking," he replied and found the small remote to call for a nurse. He shrugged, completely unaffected, when she glared at him for it.

The nurse gave her a sedative when she arrived and Rachel never got to explain her reaction before drugged sleep claimed her. She woke up hours later. She guessed it was the middle of the night and as expected – in a chair by her bedside there was the slumped form of Captain Chandler.

"Beds are overrated, huh?" she asked softly, and he work with a start. "I thought you would be at home. With the kids."

"They went to sleep hours ago," he finished his assessment of the room and rubbed his eyes free of sleep. "I heard you had an episode today."

"It was nothing," she insisted gently. "I just had a .. surprise."

He stared at her, not commenting, waiting for something more. He wondered if this earl was bad news, if he should warn the president. He wondered how she knew the man, and he didn't question the protective rage that started to rise in his blood.

"It's not bad..," she objected a moment later.

The Captain raised his eyebrows, questioning her assessment without words.

"You have that threat-assessing look on your face," she explained her guess, and turned on her side, to snuggle deeper into the pillow. She had woken him up, because she had intended to tell him to go home, that she was fine. But somehow they just started talking and she liked hearing his voice.

"Well, you had a panic attack, so I would think I'm justified," he was unapologetic. The situation that had landed her in this hospital was never going to happen again. There was no context in which she and _danger_ would ever be in vicinity of each other.

"It wasn't.." Rachel huffed and punched her pillow weakly to fluff it. "I was just startled and pulled a stitch when I moved, and then adrenaline kicked in.. I blame the medicine," she finished. The drugs kept her pain-free and safe from any infections, but they still were powerful drugs and they did have side effects – confusion, anxiety, irritability.. "I just never expected.. Tom.. George Carrey is my grandfather."

"But that's good news," he frowned.

"Yes," she smiled. Then laughed, "Yes, it is."

Except the moment she had found out that George Carrey lived; irrational fear that she had regained her family only to lose them again, had swept her up before she could rationalize herself out of it. Her family had been the first thoughts on her mind when she first woke up in the hospital. It was a hope and pain that had become unearthed in her brush with death, and she couldn't help but have a strong reaction to it.

And she couldn't help but feel ashamed of how her feelings made her spin like she was on a craziest theme park ride in the world. Rachel had been so composed from the moment she got on that helicopter in Egypt, and now.. it was all unraveling. She was afraid of what would be left of her in the wake of that.

Tom just grinned, "You're the granddaughter of an earl?"

Rachel laughed, shaken out of her musings. "The title never meant anything to me."

"Should I start calling you.. what? Countess?" he teased.

"My grandfather's the earl, Tom, not me. Besides – it's Britain. My mother was a Lady, but she would not have inherited the title even if she hadn't run away with my father. Daughters do not inherit. And..," she paused. "When I found them.. The title was one reason why I was hesitant to approach them. What would they think of their half-American, raised in the wilds of Africa granddaughter? But you know.. They were the _warmest_ people."

"So why the panic attack?"

She hated the soft, insightful tone of his voice. How he looked like he would understand anything she'd say. It made her want to tell him everything. She tried to open her mouth to tell him that she didn't want to talk about it, but that gentle look in his eyes killed the words before she could say them. She burrowed deeper into her pillow, "It's silly," there was a faint hint of anger in her voice. "The moment Tex told me, all I could think about was that they would die, and I would have to go through it again. The lab in Britain was destroyed. We're months from there. What are the chances..," she broke off with a heavy sigh.

"They survived this long. It's likely they can manage a while more," he said softly. "Besides now that we know that they're there – we can send a plane with what cure we have. Rachel," he moved out of the chair and closer to her. "Rachel, look at me."

She reluctantly obeyed.

"Rachel, what happened with those labs will not happen again," he promised. He had no idea how he was going to keep that promise, but he knew that he would try with all that he had.

She nodded, not entirely convinced – she could imagine the odds, but.. Rachel was grateful nonetheless. Not all promises can be kept, but sometimes – they just have to be made and heard.

"Of course, you know that the president will be ecstatic that we have a foreign dignitary in our midst," his eyes were bright with humor.

Rachel hid her face in her pillow and groaned. She did hear Tom laugh. She sacrificed a smaller pillow to throw it at him. It made a satisfying thump on impact.


End file.
